


Tales from Glory's Hole

by DraceDomino



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Futanari, Group Sex, Monster Girls, Multi, Other, Romance, episodic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22121452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraceDomino/pseuds/DraceDomino
Summary: Tales from Glory's Hole is a brand new series of episodic fantasy tales, putting your rump right across the bar from a friendly dwarf woman eager to spin you a yarn. Every chapter will be a little different, but you can expect plenty of erotic fantasy fun with a wide variety of monster girls!The first chapter tells the story of Alena - a young woman running from an arranged marriage, only to find herself in the coils of a sensual new serpentine love.Each chapter also comes with associated art. You can find out more info over on myTwitter!
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 7
Kudos: 104





	1. The Farmgirl, the Serpent, and the Mushrooms

_From wall to wall, the quaint little tavern in the dead center of Clover is packed with guests. A cluster of elves sit playing a board game with marble and glass pieces, a mingled group of dwarves and humans engage in a drinking contest near the back, and a trio of Daru women whisper among themselves while they gaze across the crowd, no doubt trying to decide among themselves which patron they’ll take as a lover that night._

_It’s a tavern of crowded delights, of mirth and joy that only a combination of genuine warmth and cheap ale can foster. Smiling faces. Bellowing laughs. And of course, the fond exchanges between future paramours. In truth, it’s a little overwhelming - Clover’s quite the big city and fairly diverse to boot, and there you sit in the most crowded bar surrounded by the noise of strangers. Curious, but alone._

_As a mug slides across the table with a foamy head and filled with a beer carrying the sweet smell of honey, you’re offered a brief reminder. At Glory’s Hole, nobody is truly alone, not while the dwarf that keeps the doors open is there._

_“Looks like a long journey’s brought ya here, friend,” the braided black loops of hair at the back of her head bounce as she settles into place, though the motion is put to shame by the much more noticeable swing of her plump chest barely contained within the embrace of a tight-fitting tunic. Freckled features offer a pleased smile as she nudges the drink to you once more, with an insistency that suggests she’ll forcibly put it in your hand before too long. “Sorry you have to see the place on a slow night like this.”_

_You lift your brow as you gaze once more across the bar. There’s already barely enough room for people to move, and the mere act of squeezing in between tables was a snug enough fit that it could start a love connection. Regardless, the dwarf woman gives a slow sigh as she leans against the bar and drums her fingers atop it. After a short few seconds of watching her bar thrive during what she considers a slow night, she finally speaks up anew - this time moving out a hand to bump her knuckles against your arm._

_“How about a story?” she asks, confirming yet another rumor you’ve heard of the establishment. The dwarf loved to talk, and she wasn’t particularly shy about refilling a patron’s drink so long as they sat there and listened. Sure enough, right after you take a sip of the honeyed beer she poured you, she claims the mug once more - refreshing it from a nearby keg while gazing over her shoulder. “Look over there. Y’know what that reminds me of?”_

_A glance in the direction she gestured reveals that one of the Daru women were making their move. She’s a towering mountain of a woman as most Daru are - well-muscled and toned, and standing at seven feet of intimidating glory. She’s chatting up an elf at the board game table that seems almost instantly enchanted, twirling her fingers around locks of beautiful silver-blue hair and even stretching out a hand to trace her touch across the Daru’s arm._

_Anyone can tell - you, the dwarf, the other Daru, and the admittedly awkward-feeling elves at the board game table - she’ll be taking that elf home tonight. Whether it’s a matter of chatty dwarves or passionate amazons, it seemed like it was a night for proving rumors true. When you look back at the dwarf she’s settled into a stool behind the bar, a wistful look in her eyes as she tidily cleans out a used mug._

_“Nothing quite so soothing as a love story, right?” she asks with a smile, briefly flashing the metal stud nestled in the center of her tongue. “All the better if it’s between some adorable slip of a thing and a real monster of a woman. Well...since it’s your first time here at Glory’s Hole, I’ve got just the story to share with you.”_

_She sets down the mug, leans back on her stool until the wooden legs creak under her sturdy physique, and smirks when she catches you stealing another glimpse at generous dwarven bust._

_“Enjoy your drink. This is one of my favorites, and it’s all about finding love...and how someone can slither right into your heart.”_

Tales from Glory’s Hole - Story One  
The Farmgirl, the Serpent, and the Mushrooms  
-Story by Drace Domino, Art by Cholie

How long she had been running, Alena couldn’t tell. It felt like she had been rushing through the wilds for hours now, and even a body made strong by a lifetime of farm labor was starting to weaken and slow. She was wearing the scrapes and bruises that could only come from a panicked charge through the most dangerous region of Rugget outside the Bile Pools, but every time she stumbled in the heavy brush leading to the Savage Hills she managed to crawl back up and keep running. She had to. It didn’t matter how tired she grew, and it didn’t matter what dangers were waiting in the ominous hillside before her. All that mattered was that she escaped her home...and that she never, ever looked back.

This day had been coming for some time now, and she still wasn’t as prepared as she hoped. The heavy rucksack on her back was filled with as many preserved supplies as she could steal away from her family’s cupboard, though even Alena knew that she was no survivalist. Her bag was probably filled with too many bundles of dried beef and not enough flint or bandages, and the further she ran the more she thought of other items she should have brought for her flight from home. All were afterthoughts that didn’t strike her mind until she was miles away - any of which could be an oversight big enough to cost the girl her life.

Did she bring enough gold? Did she bring any silver in case she encountered werefolk? What about antivenom? There were snakes in the Savage Hills, and she detested snakes. The poor girl’s mind continued to spin with items forgotten or overlooked, and the weight of worry added to the impact of her footsteps. It was already hard enough to keep running with sore joints, exhausted muscles, and scraped skin...but now that she was second guessing herself, it just might have been too much for her to endure.

It wasn’t until the girl reached the dense forest at the base of the Savage Hills that she finally stopped, pausing long enough to lean her head and arms against a massive tree so she could struggle to catch her breath. No doubt back home the search parties had already begun, and though she had purposefully waded through rivers to throw off the scent her family’s hounds were famous for their tracking. They’d find her sooner or later, if she didn’t keep up their distance.

“Hahh...hahh…” Alena panted, slowly sliding down to her knees at the base of that mighty tree. The weight of her rucksack worked to pull her down, and she shrugged it gently from her shoulders to dismiss the bulk of it briefly. Every part of her hurt - from the worn muscles to the burning lungs, from the sore feet to the stinging at the corners of her eyes. For hours, she had been pushing through heartache and strain just so she could reach the boundary of the Savage Hills - a place so dangerous and wild that no right-minded person would ever set foot within.

And yet...returning home would be worse.

“Hnng...oof!” the girl made a gentle noise as she twisted and flopped down, letting her rump land against the ground below as she wedged her back to the tree. The forest’s edge gave her a reasonable enough vantage point to watch the fields she fled through - even if she could add a spyglass to the list of things she forgot to pack. With weary arms the girl pulled her rucksack up and opened it to rummage for food and drink, still with her chest racing as she recovered from the long, hard run. “Al...almost...almost there. Hard part’s over, Alena.”

She was lying to herself. If anything? The hard part was only beginning, and the harsh wilds of the Savage Hills were already buzzing with the knowledge that a human had entered the region.

She wouldn’t be the first runaway from the Homestead to meet a grisly end amongst the hills. She would simply be the next, if the beasts already drawing in her scent had any say in the matter.

Alena didn’t make it a single evening before she was running again, and this time with far more urgency than before. It didn’t matter now what items she forgot to bring, for her rucksack was still laying at the base of that mighty tree, completely abandoned in the hopes of survival. Now, in the near-pitch black of night in the woods at the base of the Savage Hills, Alena stumbled and whimpered as she pushed forward with every ounce of the strength within her. That morning, she was running for her freedom. Now, she was running for her life.

“Hawwwwoooooo!” the howls of the werefolk were behind her, filled with a hunger that she had no intention of sating. As the girl ran she was forced to keep wiping the tears from her eyes, and even in that newfound urgency the weight of her emotions were pushing down on her. If only she had stayed at home and did as her parents wanted. If only she did what was best for her family. Wasn’t a miserable, boring life better than getting eaten by werefolk in the wild?! Wasn’t a life as some Clover noble’s prize better than death?! For now she was in too much of a panic to suss out the answer, but that didn’t stop those dangerous thoughts from making her stumble every other step. Each time she could hear the branches behind her snap or the heavy sound of paws thudding against the ground, the girl pushed herself forward with renewed fear and panic. And every time one of the werefolk’s howls filled the air, her entire body tensed in horror that chilled her to a primal core. “Hawwwwwooooooo!”

“No, no, no, go away!” Alena screamed, and just a few steps ahead saw a felled tree in her path. It took every last bit of her strength, but she managed to slap her hands against it and vault over, falling hard on the other side with a loud, sharp squeak. Pain rioted through her as she landed on her ankle and it twisted from the impact, sending her cascading into the wet leaves and fallen branches. Her red pigtail braids danced and her glasses went spinning from her face as she fell, that fit farmgirl body cast hard to the ground and reeling in pain. Unfortunately, the sound of her cries only drew the attention of all the werefolk pursuing her, and when she lifted her head she saw what was most likely the last thing all runaways saw in the woods of the Savage Hills. Or at least, the muddied image of their final sight as offered through squinting, tear-filled eyes.

In the dark of night and without her glasses, ominous shadows ruled her vision. She could see the massive figure of the felled tree that tripped her, and then moving in slow, predatory fashion a series of spectre-like figures prowling in a circle around her. Their figures were difficult to make out, but the gleam in their eyes certainly wasn’t, and as Alena looked around she counted six, seven, eight of the beasts focusing upon her. When she scrambled to get up, her twisted ankle immediately betrayed her and once more she was sent to the ground with a heavy thud - this time, to the twisted, feral laughing of the jackal-like abominations circling her.

“Heeewwwwhehehe!” their shoulders rose and fell with cruel bliss, and as a collective pack they inched all the closer. Alena could smell the revolting stench of wet fur, study their sinister, burning eyes, nearly feel their breath upon her, and as she looked from one end of the line to the other she knew what a hopeless situation she had found herself in. Even as she tried to press her back against the tree that tripped her, two more of the beasts hopped up on it from behind, making the weight of it press all the harder against the ground below.

“N-No, no...no, please...I just…” effectively blinded without her glasses and crippled by her twisted ankle, Alena had turned herself into truly helpless prey. The werefolk didn’t even have to scratch her to show just how deadly the Savage Hills could be, and just how out of place a farm girl from the Homestead was there. If only she had chosen to run to Clover instead. She wouldn’t have made it far in the city before her father’s hounds tracked her, but...but at least she’d be alive long enough to be forced into a loveless marriage. Now? Now, Alena could only hope that these beasts would end her suffering quickly. “Please...please let me go...I’ll run, I’ll never come back, I...I...n-n-no, please, I…”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, if the werefolk even understood her to begin with. As she scrambled for safety the beasts suddenly charged forward, lunging after her with fury in their voice and a fierce weight to their pounce. One after the other the werefolk dove towards her, landing against the ground beside that massive, felled tree. She could feel revolting claw-adorned hands wrap around her wrists and ankles while others shoved her shoulders down. They were going to flay and devour her right then and there, and none of it was going to matter anymore. Not her impending marriage to a Clover noble, not her constant fighting with her father and mother, not...not anything.

What she wouldn’t give for the worries of a simple farmgirl at that moment.

Alena was sure that her end was near as she felt the werefolk breath against her throat, and she looked up through the haze to see the gleam of their wicked fangs. But just before they sunk their teeth against her flesh to begin their grim and shrieking feast, there was a sudden rumble from underneath them. The ground shook...and before any of them were able to discern exactly what happened, started to collapse.

Weakened by the weight of the tree and the sudden pouncing of the pack of werefolk, the ground started to fall from underneath them. She could hear their yelps and feel their claws scrape against her while they desperately tried to keep their footing, but before long both hunter and prey were of the same status - that of plummeting down, riding a landslide into a deep, dark cave. For once the screams of the werewolf were joining in with Alena’s own, playing melody with the sound of that fallen tree that crashed to the dirt and began a violent slide. Lost in a blizzard of wet leaves, left dizzy by the flurry of activity in the darkness, and still reeling with pain, Alena wasn’t able to track everything that happened. She knew she was falling...and she knew she was screaming.

And she knew that in the split-second before she hit the ground far, far below she could see light. A dull, warm purple...and then, darkness once more.

With a pounding head, Alena was woken by the sounds of struggle. As she fought with every ounce of strength within her to open her eyes, the poor thing was left trying to put together the pieces of what just happened. She remembered the cries of those horrible werefolk, she remembered the ground crumbling underneath their feet, and she remembered purple light. Soft, gentle, and almost comforting as she tumbled.

And now, with her eyes finally opening up, she saw that the purple light was still there...and it was exposing a scene straight from her nightmares.

“Harrrooowww…!” the werefolk were there with her, contained in the strange, subterranean cave that they had all fallen into. Surrounding them on all sides were mushrooms of various sizes - some as tiny as the ones that grew back on the farm and some that towered as high as her father’s old silo. Each one of them was some variant of red or blue or purple, and without deviation they all carried a dull glow which worked to bathe the area in a subtle light. Considering what Alena was seeing, she almost wished they didn’t.

With her glasses lost, Alena couldn’t exactly make out the monstrous scene before her, but she could see enough to feel overtaken by fear. The furry, lithe figures of the werefolk were engaged in battle against something massive - something with a long, serpentine tail that could only be the thing of nightmares. She saw a gargantuan coil of snakeflesh weaving across the cave floor, shimmering with scales of crimson and indigo, beautiful save for the terror they conveyed. While the werefolk threw themselves against it the tail made swift work of flicking them with hundreds of pounds of muscle, easily enough to launch them to the sides of the cave with deafening cracking noises or throw them high up into the air...only to land with sickening thuds.

Panic filled Alena once more, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach the girl tried to lay as low as possible. In truth, she should have run. She should have picked a random direction and charged ahead, exploiting the fact that the werefolk were distracted by this titanic beast filling the cave. She was so frozen with fear, however, that all she could do was dig her fingers deep against the bed of moss she landed on and watch the blurry scene unfold with her mouth agape and her heart racing.

Screams. Howls. The gnashing of teeth and the breaking of bones. Somehow, it was the yelps of pain that were the worst as this titanic creature dismissed the werefolk with astonishing brutality and ease. It was treating these feral stalkers of flesh like nothing more than trivial insects, and Alena still had yet to see anything more than that powerful, whiplike tail. She could only imagine just what the rest of this monster looked like.

When there was only a single werefolk remaining, the wiry creature set its gaze upon Alena and made a desperate charge in her direction. It was impossible for the girl to decipher the madness of its decision - perhaps it intended to throw her to the snake in order to buy itself some time, perhaps it simply wanted to see the human dead before its own last second came. Maybe it wanted just one last meal in the form of a hastily-bitten and gulped chunk of farmgirl flesh. Regardless, it didn’t get what it was after. Just as the creature drew near enough to pounce on the red headed human, that massive tail lurking in the dull glow of the cave lurched forward once more. With incredible might it moved to coil around the werefolk, spinning its impressive frame around that lithe form once, twice, three times until...snap! There was a tiny cracking noise that came from the creature, muffled by the hundreds of pounds of snake flesh that encircled it.

With tears in her eyes, Alena watched the final werefolk strike the floor and that mighty tail once more retreat to the shadows of the cave. With no other prey among the mushrooms, Alena could only assume that she would be the next to go - the final target of a horrific, monstrous beast lurking underneath the Savage Hills. Though her chance of escape was minimal with her sprained ankle and her lost glasses, she still fumbled against the ground, trying to force herself up to her feet as she strained to look from side to side.

Mushrooms...moss...mushrooms...moss.

“No, no...there’s...there’s got to be a way out, I…” squinting, the girl lifted her head and peered up, hoping to see the light of the stars and moon - enough to suggest that she wasn’t all that far away from the surface. Unfortunately, she was greeted only with the same cold darkness. Unforgiving. Terrifying. Merciless. “I can’t...can’t do this, I…”

Alena leaned heavily on one of the larger mushrooms while she stood, taking care not to put any weight on her sprained ankle. In that moment came a slithering noise from the other side of it, and it sent her into such a fright that she stumbled right back down, launching herself onto her backside on the mossy rock below. Fear was overtaking her. The scream that filled the cavern was no doubt a foolish idea considering the monster still lurking nearby, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from letting it pass by her lips. As she collapsed to the ground the girl gazed forward with widening eyes - something was emerging from behind the mushroom, and she didn’t need her glasses to see it.

“M’lsss etop? Husss bintala.”

The figure that emerged from hiding wasn’t the grotesque, towering snake head that Alena had suspected, but a woman. Tall, with pale skin and shrouded in a long-sleeved white robe, tied loosely around a curvy waist and with the hood pulled high upon her head. A pair of brown braids hung down the sides of her head not too unlike Alena’s own, although while the farmgirl’s reached the small of her back this new woman’s only dropped to just below her chin. Her eyes were kind, her cheeks were chubby, and her lips the shade of a fresh peach - so striking and gentle that, for the moment, Alena didn’t notice the rest of her. The beautiful woman drew closer and stretched a hand outward, offering something to the smaller girl as she spoke anew.

“Bintala. Bintala tisss.”

Alena didn’t understand a word, though when she looked to the woman’s open hand she saw something that made her tremendously happy. Resting in her outstretched palm with little more than a light scratch on a single lense were the glasses she had lost in the struggle, offered now by the kind gesture of a mysterious figure. Alena didn’t hesitate to snatch them back, her eyes shining as she pulled them up to slip them right back onto her face.

“My glasses! Oh, thank you so much, miss!” still riding the adrenaline of the moment, there were glaring things she didn’t notice until just about that very second. “But...but we need to run! There’s something in here, and it--ahhhhh!”

Alena’s glasses nearly fell right back off her face as she launched herself backwards yet again, pushing against the nearest mushroom. In the dim light afforded in the cave and with her sight newly restored, Alena could take in the full form of her kind benefactor - from the sweet, chubby features of the robed woman to where her body flowed into that of a massive snake, starting at about her waist. Those crimson and purple scales shimmered in the ambient light of the mushrooms, but there was no time for Alena to appreciate the beauty of it. The woman before her was half-serpent, and such a horror had never even been whispered about by the people of the Homestead.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be offended by Alena’s fear. While the human girl panicked and cowered against the mushroom, the mighty creature slithered from behind the line of mushrooms, allowing every inch of her to fall into the girl’s sight. With frightening dexterity and speed she coiled the majority of her length underneath her, sitting upright like a cobra waiting to strike even though she seemed far from doing anything of the sort. She had to have been dozens of feet long measured by sparkling purple scales, though that imposing figure held nothing resembling hostility towards the frightened young woman. Instead, she simply folded her hands at her front and gave the girl a little bow, speaking again in a strange dialect with a pronounced lisp to her voice.

“M’lsss vogun,” she offered, and tilted her head while studying the other woman. “Gar...gar gosssenna?”

Alena, who was quite surprised to find that she wasn’t already being messily devoured, finally started to calm down. Her breathing slowed to a manageable rate and she let her muscles ease, looking at the strange, mysterious creature that now rested on her coil before her. This...this woman meant her no harm. She was smart enough to tell as much, once she finally calmed down. Shifting in her position, Alena turned her head to mirror the serpent’s gaze, and she offered the kindest smile possible for a girl that had been through the sort of day she had suffered through.

“...hi,” she finally offered, and gave her new friend a single, tiny nod. “Thank you.”

She was already changing her opinion about snakes.

***

Alena had hoped her farming days were behind her, and yet...this? This, she didn’t mind so much. Nearly two weeks to the day of her fall through the surface and into the mushroom cave, the young woman’s hands sunk deep within a patch of soil, mixing a few shards of red mushroom meat within. There was a heavily spicy aroma to the air not that uncommon to the peppers they used to grow a few farms away from her father’s, just enough for her to remember what things were like back then and to quickly realize just how good she had it now.

She was still underground, so deep and dark within the tunnels below the Savage Hills that it was unlikely she’d see the sun again even if she ever wanted to - a prospect that was increasingly more unlikely with every passing day. The underhills had everything she could possibly want between an endless supply of delicious mushrooms, plenty of fresh water via underground springs and rivers, and a constant, cool temperature that kept her perfectly comfortable. As the girl knelt there with her long red braids dangling over her shoulders and her glasses perched atop her nose, she even hummed sweetly while she worked, continuing to till the soil with a smile.

The home she had known for the past two weeks was tiny...but cozy. A small grotto deep within the underhill, with a freshwater river just a dozen feet away and a smooth, flat stone that she had padded with salvaged supplies and a thick bed of moss. She had even spent the time decorating it by planting some of the prettiest mushrooms she could find - an array of gold and purple lights that ebbed and flowed with radiance as the hours passed, serving as her surrogate morning and night. It was quaint. It was simple. And it was home.

And home would be nothing without someone to share it with.

“M’lsss~” the familiar voice of the serpent woman rose from behind Alena, though she didn’t flinch when she heard it. Her smile only intensified while she dipped her hand into the bucket of shredded spicy mushrooms, scooping a few more to continue tilling the soil. She didn’t tremble on cower even when she heard that enormous snake form glide behind her, nor did she look over her shoulder as the powerful creature blocked the glow of the mushrooms while she loomed high above. Instead, Alena simply kept working - pretending not to hear with a coy smile on her lips. “M’lsss Alena. Tovusss garto.”

The human, with her hands deep in the soil, continued to play ignorant while that mighty, purple-scaled tail coiled around the tiny garden and the girl tending to it. The elegant and surprisingly graceful form of the serpent swept around her with a wide circle, drawing closer and closer like the walls of a tower advancing upon her. Still, Alena continued to hum and till up to the point that the serpent pulled herself before her, popping her face just before the redhead’s so she could not be ignored.

“Tovus garto...I see you, I see you~” Alena finally broke her jest, giggling when that hooded face dropped before her once more. Every bit as pretty as she was the day they met, with chocolate braids hanging to her cheeks and kindly, chubby features sported on her face. Alena’s smile was undeniable as she beheld her friend and when the serpent stretched a hand forward she didn’t recoil - instead moving to press her cheek against the warm, outstretched palm as a pleasant sigh escaped the back of her throat. “How did it go, Pechessa?”

“Tot! Lisss nevra, Alena,” the serpent continued to cradle her friend’s cheek in her palm, holding it there for a long, appreciative moment before casting a heavy rucksack from her shoulder. As she tossed it aside Alena could easily peek within, seeing that it was filled with everything on the scavenging shopping list. A bundle of fish from the traps they set three caves down, some of those particularly delicious orange-capped mushrooms that tasted of fresh fruit, and more rope from the flotsam that washed up on at the distant edge of the tunnels. The serpent Pechessa beamed proudly at her haul, but wasn’t quite done showing it off. Her free hand dipped down and into the baggy pocket of her white robe, and when it came free anew she pulled out a brilliant blue flower with crystal-patterned fronds - clipped high on the stem for the purposes of moving it upward and nestling it at the edge of Alena’s ear.

The human girl just watched with a rapidly-intensifying blush as the serpent affixed the flower to her hair, nibbling on her bottom lip while their proximity drew closer. Her hands lifted from the soil and swiftly wiped themselves off at the edge of her work apron, and once they were clean she braced them to the sides of the titanic snake body that surrounded her on all sides. With blue in her hair and red on her cheeks, Alena could only stare ahead at Pechessa with a quiver in her throat she was still sussing out.

“...thank you,” she whispered, and her fingers teased down the smooth, strong scales of the other woman’s body. Soon her eyes closed and her head dipped forward, only to be met in a gentle embrace by that of the other. Human and serpent, they nuzzled their foreheads while Alena whispered, nervous and charmed in equal measure. “You...you’re always so kind to me.”

“M’lsss,” the whisper returned from the other, just as her fingers passed down Alena’s cheek once more. The coil of her magnificent figure was starting to shift and loosen, and Pechessa dipped her head inward, as if trying to hide bashfully underneath the edge of her hood. She uncoiled herself entirely from that loose circle she had formed around Alena, and let her enormous tail stretch lazily across the stone of the cave floor, her upper half positioning itself just beside the girl. She gazed down at the recently tilled soil and pointed a hand to the mix, speaking in a language that the human still didn’t know. “Kala tizza? Chora den.”

“Mhm,” Alena cooed and nodded her head, even without knowing the words. She gestured to the half-emptied bucket of shredded spicy mushroom, and dusted her hands off anew. Once she had, she couldn’t stop herself from lifting one palm up to keep fidgeting with the flower positioned in her hair, stroking her fingers over the petals and toying daintily with it while she spoke. “Back on the farm, we mixed peppers in with the soil surrounding our fields. It kept the gophers away because they hated the smell, and I’m betting that it’ll be the same deal with those little monsters that have been stealing our beets.”

It seemed like even if Pechessa and herself didn’t share a language, the serpent woman seemed to understand her well enough. She offered a bright and beaming smile from underneath the hood upon the realization that their pest problems were stymied, and soon began to creep down to what had become the shared living quarters of the pair. Mostly flat rocks with comfortable accessories, with Pechessa herself able to drape just about anywhere she liked. As Alena walked to join her she couldn’t help but move with a small spring in her step, for in her old life snakes always unnerved her, but now? She was getting increasingly comfortable with the sound of slithering on any one side of her.

“M’lsss?” Pechessa’s voice spoke up as she settled down, coiling into a “sitting” position and folding her hands within her lap. She bent in such a way that a part of her tail was at the perfect height for Alena to sit - which the human delightfully moved to do so. As the pigtailed redhead hopped up onto the powerful, purple scale-covered muscle Pechessa spoke again, one hand stretching forward in fluid fashion to give a little poke at the human’s belly. “Getto sssa?”

“No, no, I’m not hungry,” came the sweet reply, and Alena shook her head while she rubbed her belly. “Breakfast was delicious. It always is.”

What came next between the two women was something that Alena had come to expect - and something that she looked forward to immensely. For nearly every day of the past two weeks, the two new friends spent quiet time together, simply talking, trying to teach each other words in their respective languages, or simply...looking at each other. Admiring how different they were. Wondering just what could have brought them into this unique friendship that they were both so very, very comfortable in.

Some days, Pechessa spoke at length about topics that would likely forever remain a mystery to the human. Others, Alena would go on and on about life on the farm. Her father and his hounds, the noble boy she was set to marry, the way the wealthy of Clover treated the people of the Homestead like servants. It didn’t matter about what - Pechessa seemed every bit as enchanted by Alena’s rustic dialect as Alena was the way her serpentine friend drug out her s sounds. Back home, Alena would’ve been forced to have endless conversations with people she could fully understand - and intensely loathe. But this? Deep underground, alone and secluded, sitting with the most unusual creature she had ever met...this was where she was meant to be.

Two weeks in, and Alena already knew that she wasn’t ever going back. She sat, she listened to Pechessa’s stories, and she toyed with the flower set against her hair - a momento from someone she was growing to adore.

***

Two weeks became two months, and still Alena was merry in the glow of the underground mushrooms. That afternoon one of their favorite tunnels was filled with the sound of her laughter, not to mention the heavy footsteps of an eager human running at full speed. She was leading the way with Pechessa’s hand firmly in her own, and even though the serpent could’ve easily outpaced her she didn’t mind Alena setting the path ahead. Her own voice filled the tunnel from time to time as well, but in a softer tone with a shy demeanor, as she always seemed to tend towards.

That particular tunnel was special. Filled with some of the largest mushrooms in the entire underhill, a few of those resilient caps pushed all the way up to the roof of the tunnel. With the strength of an oak and a lifespan counted in centuries, several of those mushrooms had put enough pressure on the ceiling above that cracks had started to form. Not direct enough to let in the light, but on the days after heavy rainfalls it wasn’t uncommon to see a makeshift waterfall dancing down the slopes of the mushroom caps as some river far above them flooded. It was never enough to cause problems in their tiny underground paradise, but always gave the pair a taste of the fresh surface world above. It was about all that Alena could tolerate, but only so long as she had her dearest friend in tow.

Sure enough, that afternoon things were no different. The tunnel flood was damp and slippery, and near the back of the cave the largest mushrooms had lines of water dancing from the edges of the caps in a beautiful display of natural power. The subtle glow they offered was enhanced all the more by the freshwater framing their radiance, making a post-rainfall glimpse of this particular cave among the most romantic Alena had ever seen. So distracted she was that in the midst of her run that one of her boots pressed too hard on an unstable rock, and the girl gave a yelp as she suddenly tumbled towards the stone below.

She never hit the floor. Alena had only barely started to fall before a purple tail swept from behind her, pushing the girl’s backside so hard that she bounced right back into the air. In a fluid motion Pecehssa snagged the human in her arms, cradling her with a powerful arm behind her back and another hooked behind her knees. Without losing a second of momentum she continued forward to the mushrooms near the back of the tunnel, and the two women shared a smile while they travelled. Though Alena was embarrassed over her slip-up it wasn’t the reason for her blush, that being credited towards the embrace that carried her the rest of the distance. Once they finally arrived at the makeshift waterfall Pechessa’s tail slithered outward once more, entwining around one of the more modest-sized mushrooms just underneath the base and bending it forward, giving them a bit of shelter underneath the downpour. Not enough that they didn’t get any rain, of course, but just enough so they could share a moment of intimacy.

One they reached their destination, Alena was quick to unfold from Pechessa’s arms, but only because she knew she wasn’t going far. The snake woman had bent her lower half in such a fashion that it afforded a place for the human to sit just underneath her waistline, bringing Alena into what could generously be called her lap. As Alena shifted into position her legs spread and she mounted her friend’s tail, resting belly-to-belly with the woman while her arms slowly moved forward.

“M’lsss~” the word was a gentle coo now, and one that Alena savored when spoken by the sweet accent of her friend. While her hands drifted towards Pechessa’s face she allowed her thumbs to hook against the sides of her hood, sweeping it back to reveal her chocolate braids framing her face and the rest of her chubby, adorable features. The word of affection was still on Pechessa’s lips by the time Alena hung her arms around her shoulders, leaning forward without warning or hesitation to press a kiss firm against the other’s lips.

Pechessa was a mighty creature whose origins that Alena might never even know, and yet...the serpent woman was utterly helpless as she felt the increasingly-familiar lips of the human on her own, pressed in a chaste moment of pleasure that the two relished in. Pechessa was left so delighted that she couldn’t even control the muscles at the very end of her tail, forcing her to shake the mushroom cap she was holding above them and giving them a sudden shower of fresh rainwater. It was enough to break their kiss amidst a shared spread of laughter, the two girls peeling apart from one another with heavy blushes and rising delight.

“You’re so sweet…” Alena’s voice slipped past her lips, just as her forehead nudged Pechessa’s and rubbed back and forth with building affection. Her hands were fidgeting with joy as they explored everything she could reach - from the slender gold rings holding Pechessa’s braids in place to the plump cheeks of her dear, dear friend. She was burning in the space between an emotional outburst of passion and an excitement she had only just started to explore, and everything within her from purity to sensuality was directed entirely on the other woman. “Can...can we stay here all day today? I know we should go back to foraging, but...I just want to spend it here with you.”

“Cosssa, tol retta,” came the whispered reply, complete with a hard nuzzle of Pechessa’s forehead and another half-stolen kiss at the corner of her lips. The language barrier between them persisted, and would likely never truly go away, but then...it didn’t matter. They understood one another just fine, and for two glorious months had been living a life of companionship and joy.

And, for a solid three weeks by that point, one of love.

Alena wasn’t entirely sure just how it happened, but...things had built between them from the very first second the serpent handed her back her glasses. Pechessa kept her safe within the cave and Alena knew enough about farming to help her friend survive in that harsh place, but the fondness the two held for each other stemmed deeper than those shared interests. Every time Pechessa slipped a flower into Alena’s hair, every time Alena fell asleep within the protective coils of the mighty serpent, every exchanged glance and every whispered sweetness between them…Alena couldn’t even quite pinpoint the day their friendship evolved into something more. In a way, it felt like it had been from the first second they set eyes on one another.

And she was deeply content in the idea that for the rest of her days, Pechessa would be the only person she’d need concern herself with.

The two girls giggled against one another as their affection underneath the mushroom cap continued, with Alena’s hands growing more and more bold while Pechessa’s tail writhed underneath her. Gentle explorations turned to something more focused and determined, as human fingers tugged at the loose straps of Pechessa’s hooded robe and the chubby serpent dug her fingers against the buttons of Alena’s shirt. Bit by bit flesh was exposed between the pair while their lips danced across the other’s face, with Alena making it a point to press kisses of equal joy on each of her love’s chubby cheeks just as Pechessa traced the other girl’s freckles with her lips. Little was whispered between the two as the layers of cloth were left exposed, both shirt and robe alike soon hanging open so warm flesh could be pressed together. The curves of the farmgirl were a joy to behold but Pechessa’s figure was thicker and softer, practically engulfing that of her friend’s as their affection grew. With bare breasts held against one another and their bodies still half-dampened from the rainfall above, Alena finally broke the silence between them by matching their gaze and palming Pechessa’s cheeks.

“...you mean so much to me,” the girl whispered, throat tightening and emotions overtaking her. If ever it was clear that Pechessa could understand her meaning, it was in moments like this when she fell quiet and watched the human with adoring, fond eyes. “Waking up beside you every morning, it...going to sleep at night curled up against you...I haven’t worried about a thing since we first met.” She dipped forward to suddenly break their eye contact, just so she could wrap her arms around Pechessa and give her a mighty, fierce bear hug. With their bodies closer than ever and her face buried against one of those chocolate braids, Alena let her voice creep from the back of her throat with a genuine, sincere tone. “...I love you so much, Pechessa…”

“Alena…” one of the few common tongue words the serpent had ever learned slithered out, and she returned the embrace with equal fervor. With eyes closing briefly and body quaking with passion, she drew in a long, deep breath that slowly shuddered from her as emotion and excitement started to blend together. “Ronsssel, trai yetta ssslen.”

As always, they didn’t need the same language to understand the meaning.

The embrace between the two intensified before it started to shift, with Alena’s mouth creeping across Pechessa’s cheek as her legs began to loosen their hold. She could already feel something pressing against her - a sensation that was becoming all the more natural as her time with Pechessa continued. The serpent woman had an impressive length that slipped out from in between her scales in moments of excitement just like this, a perfect marriage of her two halves showcased in glorious fashion. As with so many things about Pechessa its existence was a bit of a mystery to Alena - but as always, such intrigues only pulled her in further. As soon as she could feel it pressing against her pants the human woman gave a tiny gasp against her lover’s cheek, and she slid her hands down to her own waistline to begin easing out of them.

At that point, the pleasures of each other’s body had become old hat to the pair, and Pechessa knew to hold the human up by the rear while she worked one of her legs free of her pants. The entire time Alena hustled to strip the two kept their mouths particularly close, sharing breaths and giggles before the moment she was finally freed. With her boots still on and her pants clinging to a single leg Alena slipped right back down onto her friend’s lap, though this time that chubby, growing length was pressed flush against her entrance and begging permission.

“So excited this morning…” it wasn’t clear whether Alena was talking about the serpent, or herself. It would already be their third time today, after all, but such was the way of young love. While her hands moved up and around the firm shoulders of the other woman she started to lift her hips forward, just enough to give the tip of that glistening member a chance to line against her. While the two continued to giggle and blush she finally allowed herself to descend, and in one fluid, practiced motion invited every inch of Pechessa within her.

The serpent hissed deep from the back of her throat, and the mushroom cap above them once more shook from the weight of her trembling tail. Pleasure danced across the pair in equal measure as her length was engulfed in the warmth of that sweet human, and Pechessa soon darted her head forward to once more squeeze their lips together in a rapidly growing heat.

Lovemaking between the pair was slow and tender. The gentle motions of the human’s hips and the constant pressure of their breasts held taut together, the fawning caresses over each other’s figure and the kiss that seemed endless in passion and affection. The taste of her serpent lover was becoming an ever-increasing addiction for Alena, and she never tasted sweeter than while that throbbing, thick length was deeply wedged within her. As a lover, Pechessa was never selfish or cold - never distant, cruel, or rough. A far cry from any affection the man she was once promised to would ever give her, and a far cry from any joy Alena suspected any woman in her family ever knew.

It was there, in the lap of a “monster,” that she experienced more love and joy than she ever thought she deserved...and it was no wonder that she was quite content to have the caves all to themselves for the rest of their days.

For Pechessa’s part, the feeling seemed most certainly mutual. Shrouded in mystery without even rumors of her kind to inform Alena’s perceptions of her, she was a creature of endlessly unique captivation. Her mighty tail. Her thick physique. Her chubby, adorable member. There was so much about Pechessa that Alena didn’t know, but what she did made all the difference in the world. Far below the Savage Hills the two had found themselves a paradise - pleasure and love merged together in a way that neither ever thought possible.

Pechessa’s tail continued to gently shake the mushroom high above them, and every time it did more rainwater from above fell across their half-naked, entwined forms. Though sometimes the cold water sent them into shivers it only pushed them closer together, with Alena’s hips rocking back and forth with renewed vigor and Pechessa tightening her hands upon her love’s arms to keep hanging against her. Alena’s glasses fogged up and chilly water danced long lines across Pechessa’s curvy form, and the two refused to separate. Tongues intertwined in a seemingly-endless dance, the human’s hips continued to rock back and forth, and the union between human and monster showed no sign of stopping.

It was hard for Alena to tell just how long they remained like that. Minutes? Hours? The time made little difference, considering the bliss that flooded her. Their tender lovemaking kept going in gently rising and ebbing waves, with some moments of swifter thrusting leading into others of a passive pleasure where she simply resting on Pechessa’s member and held it within her. Their lips never strayed further than a quarter inch apart, and rainwater that fell from above when they first began was still trapped in between their breasts, caught in a prison of flesh on flesh. Alena’s climaxes came softly and swiftly and without exhaust - thighs trembling, breath catching in her throat, and muscles tightening around that throbbing length. She quivered gently against her love’s body and every time she came Pechessa endeavored to hold her tighter, crushing their figures against one another while she murmured sweet words in a mysterious language against her lips.

It was when Pechessa herself finally hit her peak that the moment truly hit a new high, and once more Alena was gifted to know what it felt like to accept the flood of her lover’s cream. Breathing heavier and heavier, the serpent pushed herself to the limit within Alena’s folds, and when it finally arrived she unleashed a noise that sounded like a desperate, frightened yelp. Her entire body quaked and the mushroom cap above shook, and those hundreds of pounds of pure snake muscle violently trembled and twitched.

And while they did, Alena simply held her beloved close, threaded fingers down her chocolate hair, and whispered hotly against her plump lips.

“...that’s it, love...everything...give me everything…” she begged, and kissed Pechessa again and again in chaste and doting fashion, rubbing their noses together and encouraging her further. Even as she felt the serpent’s cream flood her nethers, even as she felt the overflow pool against her thighs, even as her own body began to quiver in release, she continued to layer whisper after whisper onto her beloved’s lips. “It feels so wonderful...so warm...so perfect…”

Even after all their time spent together, Pechessa was still shy. Shy about her unique body, and shy about the moment of climax within her human mate. The sweet words that flowed to her soon brought the serpent’s eyes to open, and she gazed at Alena with a heavy blush upon her cheeks and a gentle misting of tears within her eyes. Satisfied, pleased, and emotional.

“You’re perfect,” Alena was quick to whisper, pressing her palms to Pechessa’s cheeks and kissing her again, and again, and again. Feather-soft moments of affection, drawing more and more emotions from the raw and trembling creature. “You’re perfect. And you’re mine. And I’m yours. And this is all ours.”

“...A...Alena…m’lsss...” Pechessa purred in glowing delight, and basked in the adoration of her human love. With Alena’s filled entrance drawn tight around her and the heat between them at their peak, the serpent drew a deep and intensely satisfied breath. This treasure from above spoke a strange language, had no tail, and was so very, very small compared to her. And yet...she would ask for nothing more in all the underhill to be her own.

And Alena, who had forgotten so many useful items when she first ran away - and who had abandoned her rucksack on her first night out - never needed any of those things to begin with.

All she needed was the love of the serpent, and the glow of the underground mushrooms.

The End.

_As Glory finishes the story, you take one last sip of your honeyed beer, and for the first time it isn’t immediately refilled. Fair, considering how the crowd was already starting to dwindle and it’d be morning in Clover in a few short hours. When you push your mug aside Glory takes it by the handle and sets it behind the bar, right beside a small mountain of dirty dishes - the unsavory aftermath of a packed tavern._

_“I know what you’re thinking,” the dwarf lifts a hand, wagging a finger square at your nose. “If the two of them hide away underneath the Savage Hills, just how do I know about them?”_

_Glory was a considerate host. Even if the question didn’t dwell on you during her tale, it no doubt would have before too long. That sort of nagging thought would be enough to keep an adventurer up at night, even with the gallon or so of honeyed beer sloshing around inside a very warm, content belly. Thankfully, the kindly owner of the bar gives a laugh, and tucks her arms once more underneath her chest as she explains._

_“I trade in stories around here, you know,” she begins, shoulders rolling with a pleasant smile. “If you come back for another drink sometime, I’ll tell you ones I’ve heard from across Sombfal. Stories about the harsh desert of Shesh, the deep damp of the Terro Marsh, and maybe even about those mysterious catfolk in the Pofri Kingdom. I can’t promise all of them are true, but...this one?”_

_The dwarf pointedly lifts her brow, and gives you a playful wink._

_“...who do you think catered their wedding, hmm?”_

_Glory’s Hole. Offering cheap drinks, plenty of company, and sordid tales from all across Sombfal._

_Now available for catering weddings both bipedal and serpentine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, you can find out more about Tales from Glory's Hole over on [my Twitter!](http://www.twitter.com/DraceTales)


	2. The Hoard Horde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After you spot some sticky-fingered jerk helping himself to the tip jar, Glory drops down beside you to share a story of Clover's notorious thieve's guild, the Hoard Horde!
> 
> Turns out, initiation into the guild involves getting intimate with the guild mistress, and it could be argued that she's any treasure hunter's dream...

_The night crowd at Glory’s Hole roars in applause, and all because of you._

_The barmaids cheer and clap, and all because of you._

_The Daru bouncer forcefully throws a sneaky bastard out the door, sending them crashing into a pile of trash all the way on the other end of the street...and all because of you._

_“Good eye, Meat,” as the bouncer walks her way back to her post, she closes her fingers in a loose fist and gives you a tiny bump on the shoulder. It’s meant as a playful and even friendly gesture, but it’s still forceful enough to give you a jostle from your stool, forcing you to resettle and collect yourself. As you watch the mountain of a woman walk back to the front door of the tavern, a few of the various barmaids pass a smile along your way - not to mention a flirtatious wink or two._

_It was the sign of a good establishment when the employees were just as protective of it as the owner._

_The man face-down in the garbage outside had almost gotten away with it. With how busy the bar was, surely he expected nobody would notice when he scooped his hand deep into the tip jar and helped himself to a handful of gold. Whether his intention was to buy a few more extra drinks or take that gold to another, lesser bar in town was unknown. Thankfully, he didn’t get the opportunity to do either because of your quick eyes and a side whisper to one of the barmaids._

_Your second night at Glory’s Hole, and already a local hero with the staff._

_“You know, I almost wouldn’t have minded if he just would’ve stuffed his hand in the bar’s bank, instead,” the voice that draws your attention is the black-braided dwarf that ran the place, smiling as she stepped up to your table and invited herself to hop onto the opposite stool. In a single broad hand she carried two mugs of the bar’s finest ale, an aromatic drink with mysterious spices that she modestly named Glory’s glory. As she scoots you one of the mugs and helps herself to the other, the dwarf arches her brow and gives a little chuckle. “But that’s the staff’s gold, and I’m not going to tolerate good help getting mistreated.”_

_As she raises her mug of ale in a casual toast, you clink your glass to hers and take a long, thirsty drink. A good flavor. A bracing aftertaste. A warm, satisfied feeling in the belly. Almost a shame there weren’t more desperate drunks trying to make a quick coin._

_“We don’t really see much of that ‘round these parts,” Glory is quick to dismiss any silent wishes of a free exchange of heroics for drinks, chuckling as she gulps down a mouthful of her glory. “Most of the thieves in Clover stay away from the adventurer taverns, probably on account of all the people that know to handle themselves in a fight. Hell, we don’t even run into trouble with the Hoard Horde, and they’re the only ones good enough to get away with it.”_

_When the name’s dropped, you tilt your head in inquisitive fashion. The Hoard Horde was a name that made its way to your ears even during your short time in Clover - even if nothing of substance was ever said about it. From what you could tell, they were more folklore than active crime syndicate, although whispers were always in the air about some grand heist they managed to pull off. Expensive tapestries, rare and magical gems, thousands of gold from the most protected vaults in town - all whisked away by the mysterious band of brigands._

_“I’ve never had a problem with them here,” Glory shrugged, and leaned back on the stool while bracing herself for another drink. “Could be that they respect me as a local legend myself!” After a sudden laugh, she gestures down to the drink you’re holding. “Or...much more likely, they know the only stuff I have worth stealing is best shared right from the tap, maybe while listening to a story told by a new friend.”_

_There she went again. Always happy for an excuse. Always eager to spin a tale. As you take another gulp of Glory’s glory, that warm feeling fills your belly and settles deep down inside. With brew this fine, company like the cheerful dwarf, and the way grateful barmaids keep teasing the back of your hair with their fingers, there’d be worse ways to spend an evening than sitting right there and listening to a tale._

Tales from Glory’s Hole - Story Two  
The Hoard Horde  
-Story by Drace Domino, Art by Cholie

Clover was a bustling city filled with all sorts of people, but only a rare few ever walked down the alley behind the cobbler’s storeroom. It was a far distance away from any of the main paths taken by visitors and residents alike - pushed near the southern border of the city where the rocky coastline started to take over, as far on the fringes of Clover as one could get while still being technically within its boundaries. Even the cobbler himself that owned the storeroom nearly never went that far out of his way, and a quick peek inside would reveal stacks of boxes covered with dust so dense it could be measured by the inch of thickness.

And as rare as visitors were to the storeroom, the alley behind was even more ignored save for the members of the Hoard Horde.

“Did good.” Brass, a human. Bald, big, and as broad as two dwarves standing side by side. One eye was permanently closed thanks to a long scar stretching from above his brow to below his chin, giving his half-offered gaze as much presence as his direct, forceful, inelegant words. “Boss happy. Boss reward.”

“Looks like you’re one of us now, rookie,” Silver, a half-Daru. White-hair was pulled into a high-sitting ponytail, though her features were hard to place an age to. Though she lacked the height of her Daru mother the muscle tone was certainly there - not even the slightly baggy burglar’s clothes could hide it. “And being one of us comes with some...perks.”

“Hyaaa~” Coppers, an elf. Even less verbose than Brass, she mostly just giggled and cackled through her day. Bright orange hair hung in a shaggy mess around her head, with the points of her ears sticking out wide. Almost always carrying the scent of cinder and ash, she brought it in close while she wrapped her arms around the rookie and squeezed. “Geeeheheehe!”

And finally...the rookie. Human. With arms and stomach exposed, he wore a navy vest that flowed right up into a hood, and underneath it a mask that covered his face up to the bridge of his nose. A unique outfit, and one that branded him almost instantly as a member of Clover’s underbelly, but then...considering his company, that was of no real concern. The only thing that mattered was that he did his job well, and that much had already been proven.

“Happy to oblige,” the rookie helped himself to wrap his arm around Coppers, giving her a tiny squeeze in return. The four of them were headed down the alley past the cobbler’s storeroom, and although he didn’t know the destination he trusted the others. After the second story work he just did and the skill he proved to have? They’d have been mad to betray him now and lose his talents in the gang. “So this means I’m in the HH??”

“Mostly,” Silver chimed up, a brow lifted as she moved a hand to Coppers’ back. She peeled the giggling elf away from the new boy, and nudged her forward to keep them moving. Soon, they came to a halt just above a stone slab on the ground, far out of sight of any possible interlopers and deeply hidden in the shadows of the buildings on either side. While Brass knelt down to grasp the slab from the sides Silver claimed the rookie’s attention, folding her arms across her chest while she spoke. “Let’s see...we’ve told you the rules. We’ve told you the punishments. We’ve told you what we expect from you.”

The rookie nodded his hooded head. He had been in gangs that were worse, and the rules offered up were easy to agree to. The Hoard Horde were thieves, and while they absolutely excelled at it they didn’t break into other lines of work. No mercenary dealings. No assassinations. No shakedowns of the good people of Clover. They were a small, elite group that went about their business with the utmost skill and proficiency - the undeniably best thieves in the entire continent of Rugget. And now, he was a part of them.

“So...I guess that just means one thing,” he observed, and looked down at the spot where Brass had finally pulled away the heavy stone slab. It led to a set of stairs dimly lit by a dull-burning torch, inviting him to head down into the true underbelly of Clover. He took a deep breath, steeling himself within his hood and mask. “Meeting her.”

Brass, Silver, and Coppers all stood side by side, regarding their newest recruit with different expressions. For Brass, the nearly emotionless gaze of a gigantic brute. For Coppers, the manic, giggling, twitching gaze of an elf that mixed one too many volatile potions. And for Silver, the smug-satisfied look of their leader, who gestured for the rookie to descend.

“We’ll be right behind you,” she promised, as if there was any doubt. “Prepare yourself, fledgeling. You’re about to have a welcoming party like you’ve never imagined.”

***

Out to the cobbler’s storeroom. Through a long, dark alley. Below a heavy stone slab and down a set of rickety, creaking steps. And then, through a tunnel that would’ve been much less hospitable if guests weren’t expected. While the rookie led the way, he could tell as much - the narrow tunnel leading to her was filled with traps, all of which had been disarmed for the introduction party. With every step he could see dart slots on the wall or nearly-invisible tripwires, or arcane stones half-covered in dirt daring someone to step on them. This tunnel was nothing short of a deathtrap, and the four of them moved through it completely unharmed all because they were of the precious few permitted entry.

Once the rookie made his way to the clearing at the end of the tunnel, he could see the reason for the security. 

“...it...it’s...oh, by Doce’s dice…” the only time a thief in Sombfal was ever religious was when they were about to die or gazing at a pile of treasure so massive that they were sure they already did. Even with the mask and hood there was no hiding the shock on his face - eyes as wide as saucers as he beheld the largest mountain of treasure he had ever seen in his entire life. Hell, the largest he had ever heard about. A bounty that would put a dragon to shame, and enough to make any thief’s heart leap in delight...even if he knew acting uncouth towards it would lead to a swift end. It’d almost be worth it to say for a fleeting fraction of a second such a bounty was in part his own.

Piles of gold twice as tall as the rookie’s head. Gems and jewelry and marble rods set with silver plating, potions of swirling red and blue that held clear magical properties, and paintings made by some of history’s finest artists now casually leaned against mountains of opulence. It was such a glorious display that even the most innocuous items in the pile no doubt had some deeper value or purpose, from a pair of leather boots to a wrought iron mask laying casually atop one of the smaller heaps. It was a celebration of wealth, and sitting right there in the center of it all was a massive wooden chest that naturally drew the eye’s gaze.

The thief couldn’t possibly know the true specific importance of that chest, but there was no denying the weight of it. Preserved sandalwood reinforced with gold and stylized to be a work of art unto itself, with large, fist-sized rubies lining the corners and jade strips going along the top surface. At the very face of that bathtub-sized treasure chest was something truly unique that the rookie had never seen in all of his years of rampant theft - a face built into the front like the maidenhead of a ship. Crafted from the finest ivory, it depicted a beautiful woman with long tresses of hair affixed with aquamarines, while a single red ruby was perched at the front of her forehead just before a polished bronze crown was set above her head. She rested there with one eye closed and the other covered by a weathered eyepatch, and on close inspection the rookie could see that even it was built into the framework of the chest and made from an old strip of leather that was nonetheless of the finest quality. Dire bear hide, if he wasn’t mistaken.

The thief found his way moving to the edge of the chest, utterly captivated by the sight of it. His eyes were large and his mouth agape underneath his mask, admiring the thing not only for the work of artistry it was but the fact that it doubtless held unfathomable treasures within. Surrounded by as much glittering gold as it was, the contents of the chest had to be the sort of thing that would pluck most greedy men’s souls from their body.

Before his avarice got the best of him, the rookie looked over his shoulder and gazed towards Brass, Coppers, and Silver. He didn’t dare so much as rest a hand atop the chest itself, though he did linger close to it, feeling a natural pull towards something of such tremendous value and beauty. Still, he was there in the depths of their hideout for a reason...and his curiosity was only growing more and more the longer he lingered in this trove.

“Do we...wait here for her?” he asked, tilting his head while gazing at the trio. Brass’ face was the usual mask of stalwart defiance while Coppers was giggling to herself, and Silver merely wore a smug smile on her face. Neither one of them immediately answered him, and it made the thief shift uncomfortably on a heel. Usually, unexpected silence among rogues meant that the daggers would be flying before too long. “Say something. Where is she? Does she even exist? What is all this?”

“Should we teeeeell him?” Coppers shifted back and forth, half-bunkering behind Silver while she grinned. Lurking in the shadow of the half-Maru made her look all the more slender and sneaky, especially when she rubbed her hands together in mischievous glee. “I’m so excited, Silver! So, so, so!”

“Wait,” Brass barked out, voice low and steady and firm. “Not ruin boss’ fun.”

“After what the rookie managed to bring us, she’ll have enough fun as is,” it was Silver that finally spoke out in defense of the rookie, and she pulled a hand down to a small patch hanging from her side. Fishing from it a flawless, clear gemstone that danced with light as soon as it was surrounded by the gold all around them, Silver held it upward in full view - pinched between two fingers and twisting it gently from side to side. “L’wain’s Eye, exactly where it was supposed to be. The new guy did a great job, Boss, and didn’t try to screw us over. He’s got my vote.”

“Hrm,” Brass was swift to nod and make a noise that could be discerned as affirmative, throwing in his agreement. Despite the fact that the rookie couldn’t see who they were addressing, their words were enough to calm his senses and take a bit of the edge off. Assassinations didn’t usually come after confessions of skill and talent.

“Mine tooooo!” Coppers giggled, at that point practically hanging on Silver. She had climbed up the half-Daru’s back and was resting her chin on the older woman’s silver-maned head, staring at the rookie and the chest before her. While she swivelled back and forth Silver barely flinched, relying on her more durable Daru blood to let her be a fitting elf jungle gym. “He did good! No killin’! No backtalk! And I bet he’s super cute behind the mask!” she paused long enough to whisper to Silver, although when she did it her voice was loud enough that everyone could hear. “I don’t really think that, but I’m trying to be nice!”

“Heh. Good job, Coppers,” Silver chuckled in the aftermath, before shaking her head and holding up the gem once more. “That’s all our votes, Boss. What’s the final word?”

As she asked it, Silver suddenly and unexpectedly threw the gem that the rookie had stolen, tossing it straight towards the mighty chest in the center of the room. It came so quick that the rookie didn’t have a chance to catch it, but as he’d soon see it didn’t matter. In the split-second before the gem crashed against the surface of that ornate chest, the lid opened up of its own volition and it landed on a bed of golden coins that gently broke its fall.

What happened next sent the rookie stumbling backward, eyes wide and heart racing while he tumbled towards the others. He would’ve fallen flat on his ass if it wasn’t for Silver’s powerful hands catching his shoulders, holding him steady and offering him a tiny smirk while they watched. Gripped by the half-Daru, the rookie became witness to something only a scant few in Clover ever saw. The guild mistress of the Hoard Horde. The cursed queen of the Clover seas. The boss.

“Ohh, he truly did a fine job, didn’t he?” the voice that filled the air was sensual and slow, and spoken from the lips of the ivory face built into the front of the chest. As it spoke that single eye slowly drifted open to behold the four thieves before it - the three loyal long term members, and the fourth that had come to join their family. While the chest’s gaze fell upon them all her ivory smile grew, and with a soft shuffling of her frame the fanciful gem dipped underneath the gold it landed on. “L’wain’s Eye, my my my! I’ve wanted to add this to my collection for years. Such a fine, sweet young man to help an old woman out…”

The rookie was still staring in dumbstruck awe by the time Silver shoved him from behind, pressing a hand to his back and thrusting him forward. Fidgeting within his unique robed vest, leaving his arms exposed to show the goosebumps on his flesh, he looked directly into the chest’s face and spoke with a tone heavy on respect. He didn’t quite understand just what the guild mistress was, but...she clearly deserved his most polite tone.

“A pleasure to add to such an impressive trove, m’lady,” he bowed from the waist, addressing her like she was a noble of the finest breeding and not a bizarre, animated treasure chest. “Though might I say, nothing I’d uncover above the surface would compete with the artistry and glory of the magnificence before me.”

Corny. Flattering. True. People didn’t endeavor to join the Horde Hoard unless they had a true eye for treasure and could appreciate it beyond the greedy, avaricious impulses of others. The trove, the tunnel, the alley, the cobbler’s store room...they all led to a place where only the finest eyes could enjoy the finest of bounties. The rookie was one of them, and now his words made the chest rumble with grand, delighted laughter.

“Ha! And what an addition you’ll be, boy!” the ivory face on the front of the chest beamed, her eye flashing as she levelled her gaze upon him. “Welcome aboard. I think I’ll call you...Mercury.”

And with that, the rookie had a name. The rookie had a boss. The rookie had a new family, one that was eager to celebrate his arrival.

“Ooh, ooh, Boss! Boss, Boss, Boss!” Coppers lurched forward on Silver’s shoulders, raising her hand and waving it back and forth. “Does this mean we can have a welcoming party?! Please, please, please?!”

“We just had a successful heist celebration party two days ago,” Silver laughed, although didn’t seem particularly opposed.

“Yeah, but...but now we have Mercury!” Coppers giggled, just as she turned her gaze back to the boss. “Pleeeeaaaase?”

The mature, ivory-chiselled face of the chest looked at the energetic elf, and once more rumbled with the sound of delight. Her voice was throaty and even a bit hoarse like that of any weathered pirate, though there was a constant joy in almost everything she said. Easily the finest guild leader that Mercury had ever known, something he was confident in saying even having just met her.

“A welcoming party it is!” she announced, and amidst Coppers’ enthusiastic cheering, levelled her gaze towards the newest member of their family. Her words were clear and loud to still be heard over Coppers’ frantic giggling, but even then...Mercury wasn’t sure he heard her right the first time. “Get the pants off, boy, it’s time to show you how we celebrate.”

“...sorry, what?”

***

“He’s so in love with treasure that he’d fuck it if he could” was a phrase often spoken about Mercury, just as it had been spoken about countless other thieves over history. It was the sort of thing murmured around poker tables for a surefire laugh, often spoken by those that had no idea just how real of a possibility it was.

No one that ever made that jest had been a member of the Hoard Horde, or been privy to the pleasures of one of their grand celebrations.

At first, the newly-appointed Mercury was in awe at what he was witnessing. The mountains of gold that surrounded the guild mistress started to shift and take form, moving to swarm around her like a sentient wave moving of its own volition. He soon pieced together that the vault at the end of the tunnel wasn’t just a pile of treasure with a talking chest so much as the hiding spot for this remarkable creature - a feminine presence that controlled every bit of loot added to her form, and was able to manifest the reach of her wealth in a very physical, tangible fashion. While Mercury watched the tiny elf Coppers was plucked from the shoulders of Silver, and her giggling figure was hoisted up by a tendril made of hundreds of gold coins that had forged themselves into a tentacle. Grasping Coppers by the ankle, it dangled the playful elf upside down while other, smaller fingers of gold rushed up towards her, plucking at the buttons of her tunic and helping to expose her slender, small-chested frame.

Mercury’s attention was then drawn to Brass, the towering figure that moved to take a spot beside the chest. He was practically wading through a sea of treasure by now that rolled well past his knees and towards his waist, and Mercury could see that already those tendrils were pawing at his crotch while he moved, teasing and fondling a growing bulge. When the bald brute of a man drew near there was a sudden weight that crashed around him with so much force that it would’ve floored any weaker soul - but Brass merely caught it against his chest and held it there. While Mercury’s eyes widened further he could see - the coalesced grouping of hundreds of coins were taking the vague shape of a woman’s lower half, complete with legs wrapped around Brass’ shoulders as he buried his face against where a golden slit might lie.

Of the other veterans, only Silver moved with any level of patience. While she passed Mercury she didn’t hesitate to clap the boy on the back, chuckling as she brought her elegant, muscular figure over to the edge of the chest. She knelt right there before the ivory face of the guild mistress and drew her fingers down to caress the cheek of the sculpture, just before dipping forward to press a slow, surprisingly tender kiss upon her lips. While Mercury played the role of the spectator Silver kissed her employer for a long and lingering moment, and the intimacy between the two was so great that even the chest’s single eye drifted close to savor it. Even while it did, the rest of her bounty continued to shift around them, swinging Coppers from side to side and further pooling around Brass. When the kiss between the guild leader and Silver finally ended the half-Daru woman stood to her feet, and dropped her hands to the edges of her loose-fitting outfit so she could slowly strip it away.

“You don’t get to watch for much longer without joining in, Mercury,” she smiled at the boy watching from the sidelines, and let a small grin play upon her features. “We’re not here to give you a peepshow, unless you’re planning on paying for admission.”

“Don’t tease him, Silver, he’ll join whenever he’s ready,” the guild mistress herself spoke up with a large grin drawing on her face and her eye narrowing upon the young man. While she did so something started to shift right before Mercury’s eyes, and rising from a gold-covered floor emerged another figure for display. Once more she had pulled her glittering coins together into a somewhat human-like shame, this time that of a woman’s backside on her knees with her ass presented. It wiggled back and forth and showcased two particularly noticeable spots that would’ve served for a place for the young man to jam his length, not to mention a pair of wide hips and a plump gold-sculpted rear for him to hold onto while he did it. While the guild mistress offered him a taste of her pleasure she finally looked back to Silver, and purred in delight as the half-Daru finally finished stripping. “As lovely as always. In you go!”

Suddenly, Silver was sent to a fit of laughing as a wave of gold crashed against her from behind, lifting the impressively muscular woman up into the air only to send her crashing harmlessly into the chest itself. She sunk into it as smoothly as bathwater and stretched out much the same, her silver hair bouncing around her head as she got comfortable with a heavy, throaty sigh. Easing down up to her bustline, the woman shuddered in bliss while she settled in, licking her lips and giving the young cadet another playful look.

“You...couldn’t even imagine what you’re missing,” she murmured, her cheeks already flushing. When she swung a hand out from the surface of the chest and to the mountain of treasure beyond, she flashed him a pleased look with just a hint of guarded possessiveness. “The mistress’ trove is our playground, Mercury. Have as much fun as you like. Just...not here.” She drummed the edges of the chest with her hands, claiming that sacred spot as her own. “This is my seat.”

The guild mistress herself merely chuckled, and whatever she did to Silver below the surface of the gold sitting inside of her was enough to make the powerhouse of a woman blush. Intensely.

Rogues were usually the quiet type, and Mercury was no different. This, however, might have been the first time he was silent out of sheer awe and admiration rather than any professional interest. From side to side he gazed at the celebration before him, starting where Brass was firmly burying his mouth against the golden mound pressed against him. While he doted on the mistress with oral delights that Mercury couldn’t even begin to understand, the mistress was rewarding him by pooling her treasure up to his waist. Tendrils of gold were kneading at his bulge while even more of it was creeping upward, slipping down the front of his pants to massage a massive length in a surprisingly gentle, warm grip.

His attention towards Brass was soon peeled by the rabid giggling of Coppers, by now swinging overhead like a chandelier. She was stuffed naked and holding a glorious crown atop her head, one that Mercury instantly recognized as being a pilfered treasure that made waves a few months prior. Seems like it was the Hoard Horde all along that ransacked the Clover history museum and made off with the relics of legacies past.

“Heeeee, look at me! I’m Queen Coppers, and my pussy is feeling wonderful!” Coppers laughed in her spastic style while she dangled, and her words naturally forced Mercury to look to her nethers. As she dangled upside-down it seemed like the mistress had taken to stuffing her holes with a few lavish rods of beautiful craftsmanship - there was nothing quite like having a pussy stuffed with magical sceptres worth tens of thousands of gold! Or at least, it certainly seemed that way considering the delighted noises Coppers was making.

When Mercury turned back to Silver, it was indeed evident that even her attention was no longer upon him. With her body stretched out and the gold inside of the mistress’ chest rising up to her bustline, she was convulsing in what was likely the first climax of the party. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, her mouth open and tongue dangling forward, and she just barely managed to move her hands to the edges of the chest to hold on. She was actively trembling in her seat while the layer of coins on the surface shimmered and shook, letting Mercury know that whatever was going on was vigorous, fierce, and just what Silver wanted. Judging by the smug smile on the mistress’ mono-eyed, ivory face, she was delighting in delivering it.

Finally, Mercury’s attention spun down to the offering he was given: that amorphous lower half of a woman, stuck out from the ooze-like river of coins that surrounded them. It wiggled back and forth to continue inviting him forward and one of the vault’s armored gauntlets suddenly emerged from underneath, pressing fingers against the sides of what could be considered its slit and spreading itself all the further.

Mercury blinked, tilted his head, and took a fierce breath to brace himself while his hands dropped to the front of his pants. If this madness was truly the way the greatest thieves of Clover celebrated, then he would be proud to join them.

A family of bandits was only as strong as their bond, after all.

***

It was remarkable just how...natural it felt, having his cock gripped by a pussy made of gold coins working in perfect unison. Whether it was the magic that bound the guild mistress to this unique form or the fact that he really did just want to fuck treasure, Mercury found that gilded entrance inviting, warm, and even moist to slither into. While he quaked in pleasure the coins tightened around his member to give him a tiny squeeze, and when he cast a look towards the mistress herself that ivory face offered a small, knowing wink. With no other invitation needed, the newest member of the Hoard Horde started to pump his hips slowly back and forth, his head still spinning over the unique sensations he was experiencing.

And though it wasn’t new to the trio of thieves he was joining, they were nonetheless having just as much fun. The towering Brass and the giggling Coppers were both enjoying their respective treatment - and in Coppers’ case, continued to swing high above them all as a mighty tendril of coalesced coins held her suspended in the air. Silver herself didn’t even seem to acknowledge the others, bouncing around as she was within the mouth of the chest. Several times in rapid succession the woman’s voice echoed through the vault in dynamic fashion, and every time someone cast their gaze in the direction of her eyes, they were closed and she was practically melting deeper and deeper into the guild mistress’ most intimate embrace.

Surrounded by such amazing sights and gripped in such an unconventionally inviting entrance, it wasn’t long before Mercury could feel his climax rushing through him. With a heavy groan he pushed forward to hilt himself within the golden backside offered towards him, his fingers sinking deep into the coins and grasping just like it was a real woman’s rear. His member was spasming in delight just as a hand forged of coins slipped from the gold pooled around his knees, gently massaging his balls to help encourage him to give her every last drop he could manage. It was an effective strategy, and Mercury found himself convulsing with his eyes rolled back in his head, his member unloading squirt after squirt of rich, warm spunk into the treasures of the vault.

“Enjoying yourself, young man?” the guild mistress inquired with a gently arched brow on her ivory face, and slowly licked her lips in pointed fashion. “My my, first L’wain’s Eye and now all of this? A generous one looking to earn my favor, you are!”

Mercury was grinning behind his mask, but almost completely unable to answer the guild mistress due to the sensations rolling through him. When he finally exhausted himself and dumped the last of his load into that tiny cave of gold, he suddenly flopped onto his backside - smoothly caught in a comfortable pile of glittering wealth that supported his fall and helped him to relax. There he sat, his member still sticking straight up while the hole he had just used simply faded away, merging with the rest of the hoard. To what extent the strange creature that ran the gang enjoyed his cum Mercury couldn’t possibly say, but at the very least it seemed like she was content.

The thief slowly raised a hand to give the guild mistress a thumbs-up, along with an approving, content nod. He was a member of the Hoard Horde now, and he could already tell...the perks were going to be intensely satisfying.

The End.

__

_“What is she?” Glory lifts a brow to your question, pursing her lips in thought. A slow, steady roll comes to her shoulders before she finally settles once more, and she clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth. “Hard to say. She could just be a particularly old mimic that stored one too many magical items. Could be a thief cursed to take the form of something she once coveted. Although...if you want my personal guess?”_

_With that, the dwarf leaned forward hard across the bar, her cleavage pressing together with such an alluring squeeze that it was actively difficult to avoid staring. Her hand drifts forward and she points to your eye, making a sweeping motion in a circle around it._

_“Her eyepatch? I think she’s a former pirate. And not just any pirate, either,” with a matter-of-fact nod she leans back, and settles her arms underneath her breasts again. “Some time ago, long before the first brick in this old tavern was laid, Clover had a hell of a time dealing with some freebootin’ filly named Rich Riley. She was notorious, ransacked every free spot of dockside she could, mostly going after what nobles were left after the royalty stepped down. And just like the gang today, they didn’t kill. Relied on skill and sneaks, and the bond she had with her crew.”_

_If the guild mistress deep below the city was indeed the woman once known as Rich Riley, it seemed like she had perfected a way to keep her crew fiercely loyal. When you observe as much, Glory can’t help but laugh, and slowly stands from the stool while she picks up the empty mugs._

_“Could be, friend, could be,” she muses, and flashes you a tiny wink. “But with that honest streak you’ve got, I doubt you’ll ever make your way to meet her.”_

_While she passes, the dwarf makes it a point to gently bump your shoulder with her hips, and when you look up she casts you a friendly smile from over the edge of her shoulder._

_“That’s all right, though,” she offers as consolation. “You’re makin’ plenty of friends up here.”_

_Barmaids, bouncers, and the curvy, hospitable beauty that keeps throwing free drinks your way._

(( Like the story? Check out the art by Cholie over on [my Twitter!](http://www.twitter.com/DraceTales) ))


	3. Glory Bangs a Minotaur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for yet another Tale from Glory's Hole! This time, we go right into the dwarf's...uh...hole. That's right, it's a story about Glory herself!

_It’s strange being at Glory’s Hole without all the crowds. You’ve never seen it quite so empty, with only a few seats taken by midday drinkers either on their way home or on their way back to a difficult job. It’s no wonder that the dwarf woman that runs the establishment chooses to handle the bar’s less exciting business this early in the day, from the cleaning staff going over the place with fine attention to a human man you’ve never seen managing an inspection of all the glassware._

_And then there’s you, with the weight of a heavy keg in your arms as you shift it into a position behind the bar. In just a few hours that keg would be bone dry, draughts purchased at a premium by thirsty adventurers, and no doubt you’d be among them. But for now, it’s enough to make a few gold in the days between adventures, helping out a new friend on the side. As you scoot the keg into position and double-check to make sure it’s stable, it’s hard not to feel a certain sense of pride in what you’ve been tasked with doing. With only just a few short encounters under your belt, the dwarf already trusted you with a decently-paying job at her beloved tavern. It was always nice to have a backup, just in case the life of an adventurer turned dire._

_That wasn’t to say that work during the tavern’s downtime was boring, as you swiftly learn when you turn around only to be given a fright._

_“Hi!” a cheerful voice fills the air, and when you turn you find a young woman standing close enough to you that she could have had a hand in your pocket or a dagger in your back, if she so wanted. Thankfully, neither of those seems to be the case, as she leans back on her heels while flopping her arms casually across her chest. “You must be the new regular! Ms. Caskbraids told me all about you!”_

_It takes a moment to really appreciate the sight of her. With light green skin and ears that press flat to her head while coming to a point, she’s clearly the product of two different species. Most likely elf and orc, judging from her slim physique that’s nonetheless toned and and as ready to pounce as a coiled spring. A single short tusk juts from the right corner of her mouth, and it’s impossible to know - and rude to ask - whether she simply lost the other one, or was born without it. The former seems more likely, considering that her left cheek wears a line of three scars against her flesh, like she had managed to catch the claws of a great beast and still managed to get back up. The girl flips a neatly-styled bob of cheekbone-length black hair, and when you take your time in answering isn’t shy about moving a hand forward to tap you squarely on the nose._

_“Looks like she didn’t tell you much about me, though! I’m Ryah,” as she introduces herself and sweeps past you behind the bar, you’re able to catch a little more of a look at her. Purple leather is drawn across her fit physique with black accents and a flowing cape, giving her the look of a dashing swashbuckler. The sheathed daggers - both the thrusting and throwing variety - dangling from her waist seem to suggest that it isn’t too far off the mark. The girl helps herself behind the counter, fishing out one of Glory’s best glasses and a bottle of...strawberry flavored syrup. No alcohol. No complexly blended ingredients. Just a long pour of sweet, red nectar and a smile to greet your stare. “I work for Ms. Caskbraids. I’m one of her scouts!”_

_The notion of a bartender needing scouts is admittedly a curious one, and the look on your face certainly suggests as much. While you ease into a seat across the bar Ryah proves to be just as amenable a host as her employer, sliding a glass across the counter and pouring you the same drink as her. Easily the most cringe-inducing beverage you’ve had at Glory’s Hole, as you sip at the strawberry and sugar cocktail it’s impossible to dismiss two particular thoughts: how some booze would do wonders for the uncomfortable drink, and just what Glory would require of a scout. Ryah only seems interested in appeasing one of those issues._

_“I don’t spend a whole lot of time in Clover, or even Rugget as a whole,” Ryah smiles, and while leaning back against the counter takes another long draught of her drink. “Ms. Caskbraids sends me all over Sombfal. Usually just to the Pofri Kingdom, but I’m the only one that’ll go to Shesh and the Terro Marsh. Y’know, they’re not so bad, you just have to keep your wits about you!”_

_There’s a lot to unpack. Whether this girl was lying or not, you’ve never met anyone that went to the harsh desert of Shesh or the deathtrap of the Terro Marsh willingly, let alone be proud about it. Still, she seemed as genuine as she is friendly, which seems to be the way of things at Glory’s Hole._

_“My job is to sniff out interesting things, find stories to bring back to Ms. Caskbraids,” Ryah beams, and rolls her hand as she swiftly darts through the rest of her duties. “Also spreading word of the bar, tracking down deadbeats that skip on their bill, stealing neat things from people that don’t deserve them, and something I like to call ‘bullying, but with knives.’” She smacks her lips together, and downs another drink. “But mostly the story thing. Ms. Caskbraids always pays well for wild tales from all across Sombfal!”_

_That much was easy to believe, considering your past experiences with Glory. As you cringe down another gulp of syrup, a playful thought comes to your mind. After all...Glory loved telling stories, but so far, you haven't heard a single one about her. If anyone knew one, it must be this strange young woman making herself at home in the bar, and you can’t resist leaning across the counter and asking as much. While your voice is a low whisper for the sake of subtlety Ryah’s is one of jovial delight, and she invites herself to clap her hands against your shoulders while she nods in eagerness._

_“Oh, of course I’ve got stories about Ms. Caskbraids!” she giggles, and with an effortless hop bounds from the floor to the counter, her rump resting right on top of it. It’s hard to tell which Glory would find more scandalous - someone’s backside on her counter, or that same person about to share a story all about her. “It’s a tale of mystery! Conflict! Friendship forged in the fires of battle! It’s a story for the ages, one that legacies of elven scribes will hold to their hearts for generations, so precious and profound as it is!”_

_Excitement is high. Curious beyond all measure about what adventure Glory could have had that made such an impact, you inquire about the name of such a tale. Ryah puffs out her chest, drops her voice to a bold, deep octave, and speaks with a tone that booms throughout the tavern._

_“Glory Bangs a Minotaur!”_

Tales from Glory’s Hole - Story Three  
Glory Bangs a Minotaur!  
-Story by Drace Domino, Art by Cholie

Slime. This was all over a few barrels of high-grade slime fresh from the slug’s underbelly.

The Grand Slug was part guardian, part vermin, and part landmark of Rugget. A towering creature that stood as tall as the highest point in the Savage Hills, a grotesque, mindless monstrosity that patrols the land in a never-ending search for food. The people of Rugget had learned how to tame the creature long ago by salting soil to guide its path, ensuring that it would never accidentally trample places where peaceful people lived. As a result, the mountainous slug lived in a perpetual loop - constantly slithering around, decimating anything in its slow and plodding path, and leaving behind a viscious slime that, as it turned out, was worth its weight in gold.

The only tricky part was getting it into a cask before it went bad, before the soil-enriching nutrients settled and before the exposed air made it brittle and flaky. There was good money to be made for those bold enough to travel in the slug’s wake, but where there was good money...there were bandits.

Rugget slime bandits were the fucking worst.

“Ha! Take that, you stump-horned jackass!” Glory roared with laughter as she pulled her fist back, shaking her fingers free to dispel the sting. Punching a minotaur in the stomach was like slamming into a brick wall, but she had to work with the reach she was given. While the creature stumbled back on a pair of mighty hooves he clapped his hands to his gut and grunted, gazing right up at the dwarf with a fire burning in his eyes.

“You’re...not...winning!” the minotaur snorted in a furious tone, and stomped one of his powerful hooves to the ground. A ferocious creature if there ever was one, he stood a solid eight, maybe nine feet tall with horns spanning the same length as his broad, powerful shuttles. His entire body was covered in a dense brown fur with his mane braided down both sides of his head, and a purple loin cloth dangled from his waist. Most likely one of the beastmen that had come from the northern kingdom of Garst, as strange as it was to see them a full island over. He gave a bull-like snort from his scowling muzzle, and shook his head furiously before lowering his horns to charge. “Miserable little rat! I’ll grind you into the dirt!”

Glory, on the other hand, was the same sturdy, busty woman that would one day run the most popular bar in Clover - only younger. Barely over twenty, the dwarf’s black hair was pulled into looped braids at the back of her head, with a ring through one side of her nose and her body clad in thick, tight-fitting leather. Kneehigh black boots were dug against the grass to keep her steady, and clutched against her with a single arm was a cask the size of a small dog, filled to the brim with fresh slug slime. The object of their conflict. The prize to be given to the victor.

Glory saw the minotaur preparing his charge, and her hand went to her hip, only to be reminded that her axe had already been cast aside. There was a chip on one of the minotaur’s horns as proof, and her favored weapon had been flung far across the field. Too far for a dwarf to run before she was trampled by a titanic minotaur. When her rival for the prize started to rush forward, she could practically feel the earth shudder underneath her heels, and she had precious few seconds to think of a plan.

Sturdy as she was, there was no bracing herself against the monster ready to gore her. No weapon on hand to drop him while he rushed. There was only one option, and though Glory was loathe to use it, she had no other choice.

“Aww, Doce’s nuts!” as the minotaur thundered forward Glory swiftly popped her free hand into the top of the cask, scooping out a heaping, gross handful of the Grand Slug’s slime. With deft motion perfect precision she tossed it to the grass below, directly in the bath of one of the charging minotaur’s hooves. From there, she simply clapped the lid of the cask back on and cringed as she waited for impact - hoping that her sneaky trick would save her from getting impaled.

And in a way, it worked. While the minotaur charged forward with his angry assault one of his hooves stomped right in the center of the slug slime thrown to the grass. As soon as he hit a spot of remarkable slipperiness the beast went down hard - crashing to the ground with an intense force and a panicked moo that would’ve brought forth laughter from the dwarf...if his momentum didn’t keep going. What was once a charging bull with horns lowered for a precise gore became an avalanche of cowman flesh, still headed in the same direction and rolling straight to the tiny dwarf only a handful of feet away.

“...ow,” Glory whispered ahead of time, a split second before the avalanche rolled right over her. By some miracle she managed to avoid the minotaur’s horns, with his giant bull face slamming into her gut and sweeping her right up in the tumbleweed of flesh. The cask of slug slime was knocked from her arms and launched to the grass below, but there was no sense in worrying about that now - all the dwarf could focus on were the bruises and the impacts that came over the next arduous few seconds. “Oof, ow, ouch, fuck, owwwww, you...stupid...cow!”

The minotaur didn’t seem particularly pleased, either. Grass and dirt kicked up among them as they tumbled, and even though momentum was the only winner in that moment, the two didn’t stop trying to hurt each other. The minotaur’s powerful hands locked around Glory’s waist and gave her a threatening squeeze while the dwarf did what she could to fight back, pounding on the back of the minotaur’s head, trapping his muzzle between her thighs and closing against it with a fierce grip. They wrestled the entire time they rolled, only pausing when something...started to feel a little off. With their momentum nearly at an end, there was still a tension in the air, and gravity was yet tugging at them in a slow but menacing fashion. Glory lifted her head from biting the minotaur’s ear and looked around their surroundings, only to see they had rolled to the edge of a hill - and were just about to go down it.

“You...you see that?”

“I can’t see anything but your disgusting dwarf crotch!”

“Oh, fuck you!”

There was a brief moment where Glory could’ve stopped them from tumbling down. She could’ve loosened her grip on the minotaur’s muzzle with her thighs, bounded away from the fight, and maybe even still gotten away with the slime-filled cask. As soon as her rival insulted her, hover, the dwarf’s angry intentions got the worst of her. She suddenly slapped her hands against his horns, and with her thighs squeeze extra-hard on the sides of his muzzle wrenched him hard to the side - ensuring that the hill was less a possible threat and more the only inevitable outcome.

It was all worth it. At least in the opinion of one intensely indignant dwarf.

As it turned out, forcing the battle to continue down a hillside was an incredibly bad idea. The two continued to take bumps and bruises while they tumbled, with Glory taking the impact of a big bull face slamming against her every time it was her turn to be on the bottom, and the minotaur being big enough to crack against every tree stump and rock on the way down. Their brawl kept going the whole way, with punches delivered and low blows shared, until finally the pair hit the bottom of the hill with a heavy thud so loud that it made the birds scatter. Even then, both winded and covered in sweat, both exhausted and bruised from their fight, Glory and the minotaur were still at it.

“The...fucking...slime...is...mine!” Glory roared, lucky enough to have landed on top. Her curvy dwarven backside was sitting on the minotaur’s chest, and every word she spoke came with an alternating punch from one of her hands. After delivering five blows in fast order she had to catch her breath, and in that instant the minotaur took his chance to counterattack. Two giant, furred hands came to clutch the sides of the dwarf’s head and the minotaur lunged his own forward, striking her with a headbutt that echoed with a heavy thud. While Glory went cross eyed from the impact the minotaur kicked down with his hooves, rolling with all his might to topple the smaller woman down to her back.

“I’m the one that scavenged it, you bandit!” once he was back on top of the pile, the minotaur slammed his hands down, throwing all of his weight against Glory’s shoulders to keep her pinned. He cast an ominous shadow above her, his bovine muzzle giving an angry snort and his deep-set eyes narrowing. Though Glory was doing her best to fight against his grip it was clear the headbutt had left her dazed, and she squinted her eyes closed while fidgeting fiercely back and forth. While he maintained his dominating hold, the minotaur squeezed her shoulders a little tighter, his voice rumbling from the back of his throat. “I don’t want to hurt you, so just leave me alone!”

It was true that the bandit of the afternoon was indeed the dwarf, but in her defense...well...the slime was worth a lot of money, and she didn’t want to work for it.

Every businesswoman had to start somewhere.

“Gnnnnffff…” the braided dwarf finally let her eyes open, shooting an angry glance to the minotaur above her. She was still trying to fight back at him like a wet cat, but it was clear the brawl had finally come to an end. The towering creature had her pinned under hundreds of pounds of muscle, with two powerful hands locked around her and his impressive frame mounted on her lap. She wriggled and writhed and even tried to break her hands free to launch another assault, and yet ultimately...she had to admit the obvious. This battle was lost. Finally, she snorted as she shot a glance back up at her rival, hissing from the back of her throat. “Fine. Let me up, I promise I won’t attack you.”

The minotaur’s head tilted to the side, either to study Glory’s face to discern if she was being honest, or to threaten her with the dangerously wide berth of his horns. When he finally released his grasp and rolled back onto his rump, he gave a heavy grunt with his knees bending and his forearms resting atop them. Just a few seconds later Glory was bringing herself up to a seated position, dusting the grass and the dirt off her body and rolling her shoulders to work out the strain his grip had caused them. Finally, they were sitting side by side at the bottom of a steep hill - one that neither party felt particularly eager to climb, even though the cask of precious slug slime was waiting for at least one of them.

Glory even had the passing thought of scrambling up and making a dash for it, but...dwarves weren’t exactly known for their speed, especially compared to a creature with hooves and a head built for charging. Instead, the dwarf gave a tiny grunt as she leaned back on her palms, catching her breath for a few seconds before giving a sideways glance to the beast that was just trying to throttle her a few minutes ago.

“Hey, that get you all worked up, too?” she asked, bluntly. “Because...wow. Might be the hottest under the collar I’ve ever been.”

“Uh...yeah,” the minotaur responded after a long moment, and gave a tiny cough as he gazed down at his loincloth. “I’m...surprised you couldn’t tell.”

“Oh, I could absolutely tell, and I’m into it,” she replied honestly. In truth, she had been into it since she first felt a truly massive bovine length pressing against her during their fight. There was another small pause between the two strangers, until Glory clapped her hands together and started to roll forward. “Right, let’s do this.”

She wasn’t going to get the cask of slime like she hoped, but that was fine. There’d be plenty of opportunities in the future to make the money for her bar, but how often did you get the chance to fuck a well-hung minotaur? Twice, maybe three times a year. Tops.

***

With her armor cast aside save for a pair of bracers and her boots, Glory was already doing a better job at turning the minotaur into a helpless foe than in the midst of their battle. A pair of plump, freckled breasts were pushed together with the hefty girth of the minotaur’s cock in between them, a massive, throbbing unit of dark brown flesh with a wide, flat head and a pair of hefty balls underneath. Enormous by most considerations but far from unmanageable for the skilled and the brave, Glory was clearly in such category as she rolled her breasts back and forth and dipped her head down to the tip, dipping her tongue down to offer it a few sudden, swift slurps. With her bare knees pressed to the grass and her backside swinging from side to side, it was apparent that her attitude towards her rival had changed quite drastically over the past few moments. It wasn’t the first time she fought tooth and nail with someone only to wind up fucking them, and for a young, headstrong dwarf it wouldn’t be the last.

“Hnng...you’re...you’re pretty good for a bandit,” the minotaur grunted, bracing himself on his haunches while he watched the dwarf’s face slowly push down atop his member. Inviting lips wrapped around the flat head and Glory dared herself to take down a few inches, moving her mouth against his rod until she squeezed her face against her cleavage. From there, she bobbed her entire body up and down to stroke him in perfect tandem, with plump tits pressed taut to the sides of his throbbing length and her mouth handling an impressive stretch of minotaur meat. It made the beastman slam his hands to the ground and dig his fingers against the grass, groaning while he braced himself against the pleasure. “If...if you would’ve offered this first, maybe I would’ve split the slime with you.”

It was a good thing for her to remember for next time, but for now Glory wasn’t too concerned about the cask filled with golden ooze all the way at the top of the hill. Her attention had been completely claimed by the impressive shaft of her new friend, and while she held her hands against the sides of her tits she positioned her fingers to tease at her nipples. Puffy and excited, they served as all the more eye candy for the minotaur while he was pleasured, right along with the blushing freckled cheeks, the look of hungry delight burning in her eyes, and the well-toned curves that bounced every time she moved. If the rest of his tribe knew that he was getting a titjob from a minotaur, it was hard to know how they’d react...but even harder to care.

“You must’ve come all the way from Garst up north,” Glory finally murmured, popping the tip of the minotaur’s rod from her mouth and pulling her breasts slowly away. She clapped a hand against the side of his shaft and started to stroke him, leaving his length slippery with the spit she had been purposely drooling down the sides. Her brow quirked while she worked him, and slowly started to dip her head all the lower to where his heavy bull balls were resting. “The Warpath’s dangerous these days. Suppose you deserve a little bit of hospitality, even if you only came here to collect slug gunk.”

The hospitality she offered was tremendous, and only grew in kindness as she pressed her mouth against his balls to begin slowly suckling them. Her tongue pressed flat and rolled back and forth in long, hungry lines while she buried her nose against the spot where they met his shaft. Teasing, tickling, suckling, kissing...she gave the minotaur the sort of treatment that would’ve been downright impossible to find in the neighboring kingdom of Garst to the north. The Daru women that lived there were more likely to demand their own cocks get worshipped than to do the worshipping, and the other aggressive species that called it home - mostly bugbears, gnolls, and goblins - didn’t much care for the finer niceties of sex. Some generously affectionate ballsucking didn’t seem like the kind of thing that a minotaur would have an opportunity to find anywhere else...even though it was clear that he was really, really enjoying it.

There was a heavy dollop of precum that had already begun escaping from his tip, just as thick and viscerally gooey as what would arrive before too long. When it slid down his throbbing shaft and across Glory’s fingers, the dwarf quirked a brow and finally pulled her mouth away from her new friend’s sack. Ribbons of spit connected her lips to his pouch as she twisted her hand from side to side, watching as the creamy surplus rolled through her digits and webbed her fingers together with a sticky mess. Idly she gazed across the furred, impressive figure of the horned beast, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she finally spoke up again.

“Looks like you’re ready to fuck the tightest pussy you’ll ever know,” she chirped, and bit down on her bottom lip in tense anticipation. “Going to give it up, or do I need to beat your ass a little more?”

The minotaur gave her a look that suggested he would’ve been vibrantly blushing, were it not for all the fur. Still fidgeting in his spot, breathing heavy through his muzzle, the beastman slid one hand up from the grass and gently held the base of his shaft, steadying it for what would come next. Though he didn’t speak - almost adorably shy considering the size difference between them - he was obviously ready.

“Good,” Glory smirked as she lifted herself up from the ground, and dusted her knees of the grass that had collected to them. “Let’s hope you fuck as well as you fight.”

***

It was a tight fit, but nothing that the combined efforts of two enemies-turned-lovers couldn’t make work. As Glory slid down atop the minotaur’s pole both of them were left gasping from the sensation, the dwarf’s eyes going crossed as she felt her nethers stretched around a mighty length, and the minotaur enjoying the sort of pleasure that none of his kin would ever know. As she slid down on top of him Glory kept her boots firmly on the ground, but before long her knees went too weak to stay standing and she soon dipped back atop him. As gravity took over the rest of his throbbing, flat-headed length ran deep inside of her, and as the dwarf tumbled to slam her back against the minotaur’s chest both of them were left moaning aloud in the brisk afternoon air.

Stretched beyond anything she’d ever handled before, Glory’s hands reached out and scrambled for something to hang onto. She clutched at the minotaur’s sides, tugged at his fur, and then finally found the perfect handholds in the pair of braids running down from the sides of his mane. Her fingers locked around them and her fists took an almost immediately white-knuckled grip, bracing herself and yanking on his hair just as his hands lowered to scoop underneath her knees. Before long he was lifting up her legs and stretching them wide, and finally the pair had the position to allow a certain level of momentum to build within them. For the moment, however, they both took some time to catch their breath and brace themselves for what was to come next - if the fierce grip of a dwarven pussy around a big minotaur dick was any indication, they were both in for a rough ride.

“Hahh...hahh…”

“Gnnn...frhhh…”

No words were shared, only a mutual heavy breathing as Glory’s entrance struggled around that enormous length pushed within her. When the time to keep going arrived both parties seemed to hit it at the same moment, and as the minotaur’s hands worked underneath Glory’s backside to start raising and lowering her against his rod, her hands began pulling at his braids. The dwarf was a strong one - she wouldn’t have been in that position if she wasn’t - and her forearms went taut as she pulled herself up by the braids of her lover, adding a level of delighted discomfort to her partner at the base of the hill. With no small amount of effort on either of their parts the pair were soon enjoying one another, with Glory taking well over a foot of bovine cock, only to drag herself up to the point that it was nearly popping out just so she could let herself slam back down atop it anew.

The thrusts between the two were slow but remarkably heavy, the result of two powerful lovers that were already bruised and sore from their previous brawl. But while the minotaur’s head loomed above her with desperate breaths and slow-burning grunts from the back of his beastial throat, Glory’s own voice managed to find itself amidst gleeful cries and yells that took no coherent form other than sharp noises of near-panicked bliss. Yelping and gasping, squeaking and squealing, the dwarf was shameless once they got into it, joyfully letting her pussy wrap down to the base of the minotaur’s member. At a certain point she even gazed down to notice that there was a small bulge to her belly, and it made her convulse all the more in depraved excitement.

What started with a simple plan to rob this visiting minotaur of his slime cask had turned into something new for the dwarf - and she was swiftly learning the joys of casually fucking a dangerous stranger right at the end of a drawn out fight. It would no doubt set a certain precedent for the energetic young woman for years to come, but for now? For now she was focused on the moment, focused on riding that big bull cock all the way to the base, focused on the heat of his breath through the black braids of her hair and focused on the tension that was rushing through her quicker and quicker. She was nearing her peak with every bounce in his lap and every time her throat tightened to release another squeak, and from the sounds of his grunting he was rushing towards the same victory. With her fingers locking against his braids and her climax rushing over her, the dwarf finally called out, eyes going crossed as she let her tongue dangle past her lips in a frantic, wild state.

“So gooooooooood…!” it was all she could manage to bellow out as she slammed herself down with one last thrust, just after pulling at the minotaur’s braids with every last bit of strength she had left. In that moment of crashing intensity the beastman himself gave a thundering bellow that sounded like an enraged moo, and sure enough that mighty member could be felt suddenly pulsing and twitching inside of that tight dwarf pussy. Throbbing, spasming, convulsing, his tip wedged deep within her dwarven tunnel as it unleashed a copious torrent of dense, sticky cum. Thicker than the seed a human or other dwarf could provide, warmer than Glory would’ve guessed, and with a heavenly scent that she could pick up just as it started to ooze from between the seam of dwarf and bull flesh, squeezed from her pussy and gliding down across the beastman’s balls.

A glance down revealed to Glory that yet again her belly was slightly bulged, not only from the girth of the minotaur’s cock but from the - what she could only guess with a groan - to be well over a gallon of creamy bull spunk. With a pathetic noise from the back of her throat she collapsed against the minotaur’s chest, finally releasing his braids to allow her hands to drop down into her lap. Glistening with sweat, struggled with desperation for every small breath, the braided rascal of a woman slowly swallowed...and tilted her head upward to stare at the underside of the dwarf’s looming chin.

“S-so…” she managed to squeeze out, pausing to catch her breath before continuing. “Y...You said somethin’ about splitting that slime?”

End of Story Three.

_As you slink back into your seat, Ryah swishes the nearly-empty bottle of syrup from side to side, and then holds it up to the light before giving a tiny pout. She seems disappointed that it’s all empty, even if the thought of another drink of it is enough to make your teeth hurt. Regardless, the half-orc-half-elf smiles as she tucks the bottle right back where she got it from, hopping down from the bar with a tiny smile._

_“Well, that’s it! See? Ms. Caskbraids’ not all talk, she gets herself into just as much trouble as anyone.” It was a bold statement, considering that nobody you’ve ever met in your years of adventuring, had gone any intimate rounds with a creature as big as a minotaur before. The fact that Glory stands a good two feet shorter than the norm only makes it an even more impressive feat. While you sit back trying to work out the logistics of such an affair, Ryah saunters around the front of the bar once more, dusting off her hands and clicking her tongue to the roof of her mouth._

_“Well, since Ms. Caskbraids isn’t here right now, I’ll check in later tonight!” she smiles from cheek to cheek, and gives you a tiny nudge with her knuckles on your shoulder. “I brought back all sorts of things for her from Pofri, so if you see her make sure she knows to bring me an extra nice bonus tonight!”_

_You smile and give Ryah a nod, turning around on the stool to watch the friendly young woman leave. As she struts from the bar to the door, you realize that despite how long she sat and talked, you didn’t learn much about her. Not a whisper about her scars, her clearly split lineage, or - as you notice with a tilted head - an unusual weapon strapped to the back of her belt, just above her rump. It almost looks like the stock of a crossbow, but crafted of a smooth silver metal and no discernable nock for a bolt. Unusual indeed, but then...a lot of things about Ryah, Glory’s Hole, and the whole damn city of Clover were._

_It was a good place to be an adventurer, if there ever was one._

_You slink back and gaze to the rest of the kegs you still need to stock, if you’re to earn your gold for the day. There’s still plenty of hours left to get the task done, and while you’re at it you’re free to speculate on all of the mysterious you’ve found in Clover so far...and the strange new friends you seem to be making._


End file.
